


dreams aren't real, not when you're right there

by novrik



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Rushed, bad dream, definitely rushed, excessive use of appositives, flan - Freeform, it's a nice ending I promise, minor depictions of violence, no beta we die like men, talking it out, was it suppose to be this long?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novrik/pseuds/novrik
Summary: lance has a bad dream. he ends up talking it out with keith on the roof of the garrison.





	dreams aren't real, not when you're right there

**Author's Note:**

> this is rushed....like definitely.........
> 
> (im [attempting to] work/ing on a post s7 fix it fic like a fanon s8 except it's not plot just a lance centric fix it fic.....but it's long......and i haven't even finished planning out all the scenes and i'm already at 5.6k:/// so uhh take this for now)
> 
>  
> 
> anyway i hope u enjoy im sorry if characterization is off or the scenes don't progress very well:( im busy with school and i should be sleeping right now instead of posting this but i really wanted this done

He’s dreaming. Dreaming of Keith. But when does he not dream of Keith? Lance cannot think of a night where Keith does not show up in his dreams at least once. It’s maddening, how close he is to Keith when he closes his eyes but so far a distance when he opens them. Their unsteady relationship is like a childish game of push and pull. Lance pushes forward past Keith’s silent exterior; Keith pulls further back into a shell of himself. The ache of longing for his so called rival sits heavily in the deepest pits of his heart. It hurts, not being able to have something he wants.

 

His dream is not a happy one unlike how they usually go. Picnic date. The movies. Stargazing. Something sweet, heartfelt, romantic. Dreams of Keith usually end up in a kiss. In this particular dream, Lance is clashing blades with Keith.

 

His breathing is ragged, lungs and diaphragm working to receive oxygen, blood pumping to send that oxygen to his muscles. Sweat sticks along the back of his neck, in the pits of arms, from palms to the hilt of his blade. There’s blood running down his cheek from a gash Keith had landed on him with the razor sharp edge of his sword. More nicks lay waste to his paladin armour.

 

Lance holds his own against the masterful swordsman. Whether it be from sheer willpower or dumb luck, Lance is fine with being alive. In fact, he’s more than fine, he’s glad that he can still be here to knock some goddamn sense into Keith’s thick headed skull.

 

The ring of metal on metal echoes loudly around them. They’re surrounded by utter desolation, the ruins of a long gone planet.  _ Daibaazal, _ Lance thinks, swinging his blade upward to deflect the downward stroke from Keith. The air around him glows purple, lips curling back into a snarl.

 

Fear strangles his throat, a shock running down his spine. Lance is scared. Scared of Keith’s thirst for blood. Scared as to what made him like this. Scared that the only way to get out of this alive was to kill him. Lance is scared of a future without Keith.

 

For what it’s worth, Lance cannot match Keith in a duel of blades at his current level and he knows that. If dying meant saving Keith, so be it. The universe can afford to have him die but the universe cannot leave Keith Kogane at the mercy of death.

 

Lance fights dirty, kicking dust into Keith’s eyes. The black paladin is momentarily blinded, eyes watering. Lance grits his teeth and shifts his weight along the force of his right hook. His knuckles make contact with Keith’s cheek and he staggers back, balance off kilter. Lance sticks his foot out. Keith falls flat on his back, gasping for air.

 

Lance knocks the sword away from Keith’s flimsy grip and sits on him. He stares into the abyss that is Keith’s eyes. A pool of vast unknowingness that Lance is never able to read.

 

Even through the pain, Keith manages a smirk. He begins to speak, a voice not belonging to his own rings out.

 

“Paladin,” comes Haggar’s rasp. “You are a lot stronger than what I took you for. Your bond with this one is also strong. He valiantly struggles to regain control of his body but–”

 

“What do you want?” Lance cuts her off, voice flat.

 

“For you to DIE!” she howls, rage increasing with the last word.

 

Keith narrows his now glowing eyes, an animalistic sneer on his face with his lips curling back to reveal his canines. His hands pulse with energy and Keith shoves them into Lance’s chest. The crackling of pure quintessence proves to be too much for Lance’s body to handle.

 

His vision goes spotty and he attempts to blink himself to consciousness. Keith’s face is the last thing he sees, somehow still beautiful even blurry, before mouthing  _ I love you _ .

 

Lance opens his eyes and jerks up. The adrenaline still courses through his bloodstream, chest heaving for breath. His line of vision darts along the room. It’s just his old dorm room. Hunk snores away on the other bed. Lance visibly relaxes, a breath of relief escaping his choked up throat.

 

He picks up his handheld mirror from the nightstand to take a look at his reflection. Lance looks haggard, to the say the least. His brows seem to be in a permanent crease of worry, bags and dark circles causing his skin to look unhealthy. He’s breaking out to top it off. 

 

Lance draws the covers around him as cold sweat causes him to shiver. He still feels a little panicky, offset from that dream. It felt too real and Lance reaches up to touch his cheek even though he just looked at himself. No gash. He nervously laughs to himself. Looking down at his lap, Lance aimlessly fiddles with his fingers, attempting to work off the restless energy.

 

He gets up in search of a snack. His nerves are still frazzled and he’s in need of something sweet. Sugar rush to sugar crash, that’s how it works, yeah?

 

Lance’s boots pad softly along the floor as he sneaks past the dozing guards.  _ Bless your tired souls, _ he thinks. He reaches the common room, stocked with a fridge and cabinets full of the other cadets’ guilty pleasures but there’s only one thing he wants. It’s dark but the fridge lights blind him as he scrabbles along the overstuffed refrigerator.  _ There,  _ he smiles to himself, hand wrapped around a plastic container.

 

The lights flicker on and Lance whips his head around.

 

“Lance?”

 

“Keith? What, what are you doing here? Y-you scared me man,” Lance lets out a hesitant laugh, heart thudding writhing his rib cage. 

 

“I could ask the same of you,” he replies coolly. “Don’t you usually complain if you don’t get enough of your beauty sleep?”

 

Lance feels his face burn under the scrutiny of Keith’s raised eyebrow. “I… it doesn’t matter. What difference does it make to you?” his tone bitter, slightly relishing at the wince in Keith’s expression.

 

He shuts the fridge door and rummages for a plastic spoon, leaving a quiet Keith in his wake. Lance makes his way towards the roof entrance, unnoticing of the troubled countenance on Keith’s face. His steps creak along the stairs and he opens the door to the roof with a blast of wind gusting into his face.

 

It’s cold out here. The night air is chilly with a steady wind. Lance bites the inside of his cheek. He’s cold but he’s  _ alive. _ He is here, existing, feeling the bite of the wind across his cheeks. Lance takes a seat near the edge of the roof, feet hanging over. He carefully opens the plastic container in his hands, unwrapping the plastic surrounding it.

 

A chunk of flan sits in the center, caramel coating the bottom and sides. Lance smiles at the sight of the dessert. It’s a piece of home, something his mother gave him when he came back to Earth. It is home away from home like he is there with his family right now. It is soft, creamy, and extremely rich. Lance is at ease.

 

Or at least, at ease enough as one could be in windy weather wearing nothing but a t-shirt and thin shorts. He absentmindedly wishes he had worn his jacket before leaving his room. Lance is so lost in his quiet contemplation of his flan while staring at the stars he doesn’t notice the jacket thrown around his shoulders or Keith sitting next to him.

 

It’s not until he sets his container down that Lance sees the other paladin. It’s startling to be surrounded by emptiness then have a body occupy that negative space. 

 

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, mouth gaping. He naturally draws the jacket around him closer, then realizing who it belongs to. “Oh, um, you shouldn’t have,” Lance mumbles, attempting to return it back.

 

“Keep it,” comes Keith’s quiet reply. “You looked cold.”

 

Lance knows his ears are already red from the cold but somehow they burn even more. “Thank you.”

 

Keith doesn’t speak up. Lance doesn’t take any more bites of his flan. Instead, the both of them sit in peaceful silence, leaning back on their palms to gaze at the sky.

 

“Crazy to think we were just out there right?” Lance asks softly.

 

Keith responds with a noncommittal hum.

 

“Keith, why are you here?” Lance questions again, turning to face his leader.

 

Keith leans his face slightly to face his right hand man, “To talk.”

 

“Then why aren’t you saying anything.”

 

“Because I’m afraid.”

 

“What is there to be afraid of Keith,” Lance mumbles, fiddling with his fingers.

 

“Of getting my words wrong. You know I’m not very good at this whole talking to thing,” Keith awkwardly explains.

 

“You seemed good enough right before you left,” Lance bitterly responds.

 

“Lance, I–”

 

“I don’t want to hear it. Whatever reason you had for leaving the team, clearly it was more important than us,” Lance cuts him off flatly. He begins to close up his container of flan.

 

“No Lance, that wasn’t it all. I left for… you.”

 

“What.”

 

Keith swallows hard. “I left because I wanted to protect you. The team too,” he hastily covers up, cheeks instantly coloring red.

 

Lance blanches. “So why didn’t you just tell m–us that,” voice barely more than a whisper.

 

Keith does not have a response this time around. He casts his eyes towards the stretch of roof between them, unwilling to meet Lance’s gaze. Lance purses his lips, hand tentatively outstretched to meet Keith’s shoulder. 

 

“Maybe you’re not ready to say why. I don’t know why and it’s not my place to push you,” he slowly speaks. “But it hurt a lot. You leaving the team.”

 

Keith lifts his head up to find Lance nervously licking his lips, eyes watering with tears.

 

“It hurt me a lot,” Lance quietly admits. He draws back his hand to wrap the jacket around him tighter. Lance takes in a deep breath. “It was lonely without you. You know how I said it felt like it didn’t feel as if I had a place on the team? It-it got worse. I didn’t feel very included among Hunk and Pidge or Coran and Allura. They were all busy doing their own things and well, I was just kinda… there.”

 

“Lance, I,” Keith starts once again, except this time he is interrupted by Lance’s sudden forward movement. 

 

Okay, Lance is hugging Keith. He’s crying into Keith’s shoulder. Okay. 

 

Keith awkwardly pulls Lance closer to him and rubs soothing circles into his back while Lance speaks somewhat incoherent sentences into his shoulder.

 

“Keith, I felt so lonely without you,” Lance blubbers, an arm around Keith’s neck and the other wrapped around his torso. “I–I was so afraid you left because of me. I was so afraid that you would never come back. Please,” his voice drops to a whisper, “please, don’t ever leave me again.”

 

“I promise,” Keith whispers back, straight into Lance’s ears. A shiver runs down Lance’s spine but not from the cold. 

 

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms, emotions raw for the world to see. Keith’s muscles feel taut under the touch of Lance’s body. He’s warm, a stark contrast to the whipping wind. Lance craves the skin to skin contact, a feeling he’s been lacking in.

 

“You wanted to know why I was up, right?” Lance absentmindedly mumbles, fingers playing with Keith’s long strands of hair.

 

“Oh, uh, sure.”

 

“I had a dream. Not a good one,” Lance lifts his head hearing Keith snort.

 

“Right. Go on, continue,” Keith composes himself.

 

“We were on Daibazaal. Fighting. You,” Lance pauses here, licks his lips, and swallows. “You were under Haggar’s control. She was using your body to try and kill me.”

 

Keith looks back at him, brows furrowed.

 

Lance takes a shaky breath, eyes beginning to water again. “I went through that dream three times. Three different endings. I killed  _ you _ , Keith,” Lance sniffles, using the back of his hand to wipe the tears freely falling down his cheeks. “I watched myself push my sword into your chest. The second time I watched you sink your sword into  _ my _ chest.”

 

“The last?” Keith prompts gently and brings up a thumb to brush Lance’s face free of tears.

 

“She took over your body. Shoved pure quintessence into me.”

 

“Lance. Look at me,” Keith firmly requests. Lance meets his gaze, a startling clarity showing in his eyes.

 

“I know things between us haven’t been great. I know I haven’t been super good at communicating with the team or you. I didn’t realize how much me leaving the team would impact you. I didn’t know that I meant so much to you. I want to apologize for all of my past mistakes. I want to start again with you.”

 

The easy rhythm of Lance’s heart goes from  _ thud thud _ to  _ thudthudthudthud _ , erratically beating within his ribcage. He takes Keith’s hands within his, slowly decreasing the gap between them.

 

“Keith. If you don’t kiss me now, little prepubescent Lance from our early Garrison days is going to die,” he states matter of factly.

 

The black paladin flushes scarlet. “Oh,” he squeaks. “I didn’t know you uh, liked me back. That way.”

 

“You just gave me this long ass sort of confession, which by the way, I need to give you an apology later too, that confirmed my feelings but please, please kiss me. I’ve waited too long for this.”

 

“Okay, Sharpshooter,” Keith complies with a soft smile on his face.

 

He cups the edge of Lance’s face and slowly leans up to meet the press of the red paladin’s soft lips with his own. Lance melts into the kiss. Keith is gentle, from his hand on his jaw to the barely there brush of his lips, Lance revels in the feeling of it all.

 

There is only him and Keith right now, the biting wind long forgotten with the searing touch of a lover’s kiss. It is just Lance and Keith in this world, who only know the tender feeling of another body. It is everything and more than Lance has imagined. 

 

Impossibly perfect, just like Keith.

**Author's Note:**

> kind of a rip to that choppy ending?
> 
> i ended it there bc i didn't want to continue it anymore but comment if u want like an extra of the end lol
> 
> (yeah the flan is lowkey forgotten cause the original plan was to have lance feed some to keith but um...........guess no lmao)
> 
> thanks for reading and leave a kudos/comment:))
> 
> my twitter is [here](twitter.com/c9sharpshooter)


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